Shinobi of the Shadows
by Yoshin Rasha
Summary: No canon characters, totally new story. Haraka the Shadow Demon nearly wiped out the Village Hidden in Mist over 100 years ago and, in the process, set into motion one of the greatest tales of all time. This is the story of a boy named Yoshin Rasha.
1. Prologue Part 1

Hi, the name is Rasha (named after my lead character in my fanfiction) and I, as you can all tell, am new to the forums. I am also new to the world of Uzamaki Naruto and writing fanfictions. Nonetheless, I am here to try my hand at what everyone else on this forum can do so well.

Here is the prologue for my story, if it is any good at all, please do not hesitate to tell me. If it sucks likewise.

Well, as we all know, the Village Hidden in the Mist used to implement the horribly gruesome "test" where Academy students were forced to murder a classmate in a fight to the death as an initiation into the savage world of shinobihood and ninja-goodiness. But Zabuza never really said why such harsh conditions were imposed upon such young cadets, did he? That is what my story explains and build off and up from...in a way.

_By the way, everything included in the story may not be perfectly accurate to the geology, topography, chronological order of, and or anything else I forgot. I really don't feel like changing such little things_

**Prologue Part #1:**

**Haraka**

Over one hundred years ago in the land of water a demonic spirit of shadow called Haraka dwelled in a black forest of giant trees. The woods were a forbidden area to all. No one was sure why the forest devoured people in its endless shadows or why no one ever returned from the forest alive; whispers of a dark shadow, blacker than velvet, that killed as quickly as it did silent, lingered on the lips of the few woodsmen that dared stray close enough to the forests edge.

Then one unforgettable night Haraka emerged from its black hold and turned its blood-red eyes towards the closest living populace, a small island not far away called, The Village Hidden in the Mist. With its stomach empty for the first time in history, Haraka's insatiable appetite for flesh drove it downwards; down into the rolling hills and water where it fell like a monsoon upon the unprepared village.

Less than thirty minutes later Haraka sank back into its diseased home leaving the mist-coded village devastated; close to half the population had been killed. As suspected, mass panic ensued in the misty town once those who had been spared discovered the fate of the other half of the island. Women, children, young husbands with families to feed; Haraka had spared none in its way.

Muzen-Kage, leader of the village, massed all of the remaining ninja, young and old. He summoned seven of the best ninja to him and ordered them and their young teams to do the unthinkable, the unimaginable, and the unbelievable; find and kill Haraka. The Kage remained to guard with the other ninja against any other attacks from neighboring villages that would chose this opportune moment to wipe out the Hidden Mist Village.

And so the motley group of ninjas journeyed into no-man's land, deep into the heart of the giant forest of shadow. Every step they took, they knew led them only closer to the demon in hell, waiting with open arms to greet them at the black gates. When some of the younger genin grew fearful, the shinobi's replied with these wise words,

_"When your going through hell, kids, keep going!"_

**INTERMISSION: Get something to drink.**

It was not long before the group came upon the center of the forest, Haraka's lair. In a large circular clearing, shadowed by the towering branches overhead, sat the devil itself. Haraka sat crouched, its massive jaws agape; a twisted smile of a demon covered in gleaming fangs. Its bone-thin, overly long forearms resting on its wiry bent legs. The ground was covered in the bones off the many unfortunate victims the demon had taken fallen upon over the past centuries.

And then there were the eyes.

Those rare few, those unimaginably lucky few, who have ever so much of caught a glance of Haraka and lived spoke of nothing but the demons eyes. Crimson orbs, slit in twine by black slits, like cat eyes. Large, shocking white veins branching out from the center that pulsed with surging power split the night. It is said that when Haraka looked at a person and the pair locked eyes, it felt like an iron vice had clasped itself around your very soul.

Since every inch of Haraka's eternal body was black, the shinobi and squads only reference to the demon's position in the clearing was by the location of its eyes. Two blood-red glass orbs that bobbed and weaved to the monster's breath pierced the silent night and locked onto the ninja. And so the battle in hell against the devil itself began.

The shinobi wasted no time with illusion jutsus, attacking in full force. Combining incredibly powerful jutsus together the ninja threw all they had at Haraka. But Haraka was in its element; the demon slithered and maneuvered around the attacks like liquid. The demon's animal senses and unfathomable speed allowed it to easily pervade the shinobi's best efforts. The ninja grew frustrated and enraged; it was like fighting a shadow in a shadow.

The younger ninja held their ground for a time, but Haraka was untiring. The demon, not having to use any chakra, moved unmatched against the fastest the village had to offer. Striking with its long serrated fingers it cut through flesh and bones in seconds. The monster's vicious claws cut down seven different chuunin's before a different idea gripped the ninja.

A chuunin lit a fire with his chakra, limiting the area Haraka could hide in and giving somewhat of a reference point to fight around. Other chuunin soon followed suet, lighting their own fires to hold of the growing darkness. Hope began to prosper in the hearts of the attackers; the fires ability to bite back at the shadows renewed their moral. But it was in vain.

Haraka was able to identify by the origin of the flame the chuunin responsible for creating it and kill him or her with seconds of the fires ignition. Swiftly as the fires had started they were extinguished, snuffed out along with the souls of their creators. The shinobi's chakra and vigor was waxing as they watched their students die. Haraka's gleaming teeth and vicious eyes taunted them from the darkness. Only the seven shinobi remained beneath its haunted glare.

The shinobi retreated and regrouped momentarily to catch their breath, hiding inside an illusion. They spoke quickly and briefly, about what options remained to kill the demon. Plan after plan was shot down; the demon had shown no sign of tiring, let alone any weakness. Desperation led to the final decision, suggested by one of the seven shinobi. The decision to go against everything they had ever been taught about order, structure, and chain of command in the Hidden Mist Village, the final decision to break the rules and to hell with the consequences.

So together they did the only thing they could, the only option left. Together they started out of the satanic woodlands and back home. Together they stole an orphaned baby, left parentless by Haraka, from the village they loved.

And together they went back into the forest with the mindset to do what only Kage's were allowed.

Together they would ruin an individual's life to save hundreds; condemning a innocent child to years of persecution to save their own necks.

And together they would end it. They would stop Haraka's endless slaughter and suppress the loathed creature using all of their power combined. Stop the senseless fear that gripped the land of water under Haraka's merciless reign.

_Together and tonight_.

I hope you guys like it.

Thank you for reading, Rasha


	2. Prologue Part 2

**Prologue Part #2:**

**The Birth of the Yorizaru**

It was raining.

Shrouded in the cover of night, the seven shinobi dashed back into the demon's lair, the Forest of Shadow, bearing the newborn child. Like phantoms they moved through the giant trees, leaping distances unheard of between mammoth branch to branch in their haste to finish their task. It did not take them long to return to Haraka's graveyard.

And there it waited, hunched over the piled bodies of their former students. Its satanic eyes burned into their flesh as it's blood-stained jaws widened into a wicked grin of gleaming teeth. Slowly it turned, addressing the shinobi with glee at more meat willing to come to it; it saved Haraka from hunting when the prey approached the hunter.

The shinobi lay the baby down after quickly sweeping the earth of bones and stood in a rigid circle around it. Their eyes closed, they started focusing their chakra as they joined hands.

Haraka began to move to then, slowly at first but gaining speed.

Gold, pure energy flowed from the shinobi's limbs into the others, illuminating the clearing twenty feet in every direction before being dulled by the constant downpour.

Haraka's feral eyes drew closer yet behind the curtain of rain; it was sprinting now.

The golden energy left the bodies of the seven as the chakra took form and hovered in a rotating ball of power directly over the baby. It bobbed up and down gently in the rain.

A shrill, indescribable sound pierced the night and rain, Haraka's cry. It was the sound of pain, of suffering; the sound you heard before death wrapped you in its cold embrace of nothingness. It rang through the forest as the monster's massive head and over-extended jaw came into view in the golden light, looming over the gathered ninja.

And just as the demon was about to fall upon the seven-

_FLASH_

The light could be seen from the Hidden Mist Village. It was as though a burning, white-hot star had been rapidly berthed in the forest and had been snuffed out in the same second. All movement stopped in the little village as everyone turned their gaze to the large forest in the distance. Some swear that they heard a baby crying out in the night.

INTERMISSION…..

Worn and beaten, the seven shinobi slowly walked back into town together, some using others as crutches. The baby boy remained silent in the crook of one of the seven's arms. The top of a sharp, black tattoo on the baby's stomach could be seen sticking out of the blanket is was wrapped in; the moonlight peaking through the clouds after the storm lit the landscape in a pale luminescent glow.

Townspeople, instead of celebrating, remained in their homes. The seven shinobi slunk through the grimy puddles of water in the streets; their ragged bodies drain of energy. They headed towards the center of town, where the Kage's dojo was. But they were saved the trip.

Muzen-Kage stood tall and proud in the center of the street, his flowing gray robes wavering in the trickle of breeze. The mist swirled around the gathered, but did not stop the shinobi from spotting the many eyes of the villagers. It appeared that everyone had come to see the victors return; everyone that Haraka had not killed. Small beady eyes stared from windows, rooftops, and bushes, observing silently.

After relating what they had done to the Kage, the seven stood warily on the deserted street. Much to their amazement, the Kage was furious. They had performed an act of heinous betrayal to the Hidden Mist Village by trapping the soul of the Haraka into the baby without his permission. On top of that, he continued, they had stolen an infant from the village. This act alone from the others was enough to sentence them to the gallows.

The seven stood awestruck at what the Kage had proposed; them considered heretics after _saving_ the village? But Muzen-Kage continued to say that the only way they could bring honor back too their names after letting their squads die, would be to finish off Haraka for good.

_"Kill the child!"_

The shinobi were dumbfounded. Murder an innocent child? One of the seven spoke up, saying that it was not nessecary to kill the baby; over time is would die on its own once it was an old man. The baby's death was a gaurenteed as all of theirs were, death waited for no man. The child could live out its life peacefully and still kill Haraka without such violence and malice.

But the Kage was adamant. Haraka was a threat as long as the boy in their arms still drew breath. Lividly he told them to either kill the child or die with it. It was their choice, kill or be killed.

_"Choose!"_

The word rang out in the street and fell upon the villagers. Wordlessly and simultaneously the seven turned their backs to the old man and began walking away; out of their beloved home for the very last time. The child began to cry, its infant tears breaking the villagers. It was an unnerving sight, and few could bare to watch as the seven gallantly walked out of the misty village.

It was an old woman, bent with age that first joined them. Then a young boy with mousy hair emerged from the bushes to stroll alongside. Before long half of the remaining villagers had fallen in to accompany the seven. The large group walked with motivation; motivation against the Kage's evil tongue, against the village they had suffered to live in, and for the life of the child they were willing to give up everything for.

Muzen-Kage could be heard shouting from behind them for his ninjas to attack, that the death of the baby was imperative to the survival of the village. Not a single ninja listened or broke rank; their hearts were softened by the courage of the seven and their following, but not enough to leave their post.

They group continued out of the village, to the only place they could think of.

It was dawn by the time they reached Haraka's lair. Over its bones they built homes, from its blood-soaked soil they grew crops, and from its massive trees they built a their own village. From nothing grew the workings of civility, unity, and trust. Children were born and the old died in the shrouded village, as time began to remake and rework the fresh beginnings of a new life. The seven shinobi were all named Kages of the village; another meaningless code broken.

Together they would each rule the village they called Yorizaru, the Village Hidden in Shadow.

I really hope you guys like it.

Thanks for playing along, Rasha


	3. Prologue Part 3

**Prologue Part #3:**

**Bersangu's Betrayal**

As time worked its changing magic upon the newborn village, its powers also set into motion its own near-destruction. The village grew as next generations were born and the economy of the village flourished. What was once so desolate and bleak began to flourish into a thriving community. Under the democratic command of the seven Kages, order and law were instructed as a new breed of ninja began to develop whose skills would soon be needed.

The Muzen-Kage of the Village Hidden in the Mist was not to be deterred from his wanting of Haraka's death. To add kindling to the fire, he had branded all of the deserters as traitors; the seven shinobi, rogue ninja. He sat in his misty village watching as the ones he hated became more prosperous, wealthier than himself and he did not like it.

It took ten years for the Muzen-Kage to rebuild his village and numbers of ninja. In desperation for needed troops, he bestowed high-ranking positions to younger and younger ninja. He even went as far as to make the Academy Students murder a fellow classmate in order to prepare then for their advanced missions. The Kage's impatience shorted as he urged his village to grow faster and gain a over-powering hand in the delicate balance between both villages. It was no secret why his actions mimicked times of struggle; the seven Kages of Yorizaru knew he planned to attack.

The two villages were in complicated positions. The Hidden Mist Village had been decimated by Haraka's attack and by the exodus of half its villagers. The Hidden Shadow Village was just on its feet and still in the beginning phases of unity and construction. Both villages needed time to rebuild and plan; the first ten years was what gave then that opportunity.

It was the Muzen-Kage's hunter ninja that struck first; it being their job to assassinate rogue ninja. Normally, these ninja would have only been skilled enough to be Jounin's, but the Kage's desperate choices had appointed them lofty positions for which they did not deserve. Their skill lack the essence it needed; their numbers too few and their chakra untrained to slay trained shinobi, let alone Kages.

The first attacks failed, but to Muzen-Kage's immense surprise, his foes did not retaliate. Five years passed during this routine of attack and wait. Every ninja the Muzen-Kage threw at Yorizaru was wasted; they Kage's were too powerful to be taken down by mere Jounin. Frustrated beyond reason, the Kage calmed himself into a forced patience.

Meanwhile the baby boy Haraka had been imprisoned inside grew to adulthood. He had been named by the seven Kages, Bersangu, and was fifteen years old at the time. Despite his tender age, Bersangu was more determined than most to prove his worthiness to the village. His existence was either ignored or shunned by the village, some blaming him as the cause of the war, others thinking he was the living personification of the demon within his body. Proving his usefulness and skill, Bersangu had climbed through the ninja ranks with speed, fueled by his wanting to do well. He was considered a man of honor, justice, and compassion within his team.

But time's ravaging hands began to un-work what had been so wantonly wrought by the villagers; peace. The solemn face of time foresaw a second disaster, this one looming in the Shadow Village's future. A massacre, not unlike the one that had landed them in the forest in the first place, even.

Muzen-Kage had built up enough troops; he felt secure in sending several ninja teams into the forest and having the rest remain and hold down the fort, so to speak. His five-year hiatus from fighting Yorizaru had paid off; he finally had let some ninja live long enough to pass for shinobi. This time things would be different.

It was on the outer perimeter that it happened, about a quarter-mile from Yorizaru. There, in a small clearing, the battle took place. Close to twenty shinobi and Jounin fought to save their village, Bersangu included, while the thirty trained assassins fought to kill the teams and murder the Kage's. It was an intense, epic battle, to say the absolute very least.

No one remembers exactly what happened during the battle except from one point on. Somehow, in the midst of the clash, the seal binding Haraka inside Bersangu cracked down its center. The effect was immediate; Haraka's unfathomable power symbiotically merged itself into the body, chakra, and mind of Bersangu.

It is said that the battle stopped as a cold chill frosted the spines of the gathered ninja. Every head turned to Bersangu.

Before everyone's eyes the boy's entire being began to rapidly contort. His black hair and forearms lengthened, his pale skin drew taunt over his muscle and bone, and his veins pulsed off of his skin in animalistic fury. They watched awestruck as the fingertips of Bersangu sharpened into nails, his teeth into fangs, and his pupils into slits. His hunched body shook with spasms as his eyes, once friendly and encouraging, ran red as blood.

_Haraka_

Only two ninja escape the clearing alive, one from each village, and each with the same intent, warning of the return of the demon! It took less than a minute for Bersangu to reach the Village Hidden in Shadow. The messenger had not had enough time to warn the Kages, Bersangu was already inside the gates.

Haraka's demanding bloodlust, unappeased for close to fifteen years, had been loosed to do as it pleased. Bersangu began to slaughter, to kill the very people who had given up their homes, their lives for him. He fell upon the villagers with maniacal laughter, gleefully murdering those he so wanted to impress.

Before the monster Bersangu could massacre the entire village, the Kage's devised a plan. They were all extremely reluctant to do so; disrespecting the dead was an omen for a bad future, but they had no choice. They had become fed up with the merciless atrocities performed by the demon and were sick of it. Tonight Haraka would die for good; the lifetime to spare had run out.

They, combining their power like before, trapped Bersangu that night. In an overly reluctant act, they performed the only heard of ritual for killing a demon.

Unwillingly, they drained the many bodies Bersangu had skewered of blood into a giant vat. Then before the watching eyes of the villagers they drowned Haraka, Bersangu, in the blood of the innocents he had sworn to protect, to honor, and trust. In front of the villagers, they watched as Bersangu's demonic existence ended. Gurgling in the blood of innocence, he drowned in what he had lusted for.

Because no one could see it from within the Village Hidden in Shadow, the Hidden Mist Village still tells tales of the night every star in the sky blinked out. Only the moon was left hanging ominously in the sky, alone. The night that a bone-frigid chill crept up and down the backs of all the villagers, raising the hairs on their heads. The night the moon mourned alone in the sky for it's child of shadow, lost to the world.

The night Haraka, the Demon of Shadow, died over one hundred years ago.

Despite the horrid scene that occurred that night, some still tell of the glorious gift given to them by the gods; a baby boy rescued from the womb of its mother just before Bersangu's wound he had inflicted upon her ended her life. The woman Velrichi, a locale florist, named the child, Nosi, as her last gift to the world.

Moments later she passed away to join her many friends that had been taken by the one she had loved so much.

And there you go; the prologue is complete! I really hope you readers out there have enjoyed it, and if not, thanks for pretending you did! I'm appreciative regardless.

Hoping you like the twist, Rasha


	4. Chapter 1, Part 1

Okay guys, we're into the real story now. But before we dive head first, I need to say a few things, first of all being that these are all probably going to be short chapters like the previously posted by myself. If you don't like so, don't hesitate to rally together and get a petition going with the very few other viewers. I would really change it if you guys requested. But it would mean getting larger chunks of story with larger gaps between posts.

I just don't want to bore you guys with ridiculously long posts. I tend to not appreciate work when I have so much of it to sift through. I just want to keep these babies shorter and sweeter. But it also means that sometimes there will be boring bits, like this one.

Beware! It is boring!

**Chapter #1: Enter Yoshin Rasha**

_Bring! Briiiiiing! Briiiiiiiiiiiing!_

The alarm clock screeched its ear-splitting call as it danced upon the bedside table. Still rumbling, it maneuvered itself to the edge of the precipes and pivoted precariously for a second before plunging to its inevitable doom two feet below. It landed with a final-_Bring_!

A small blot snapped away from the wreckage and rolled across the bamboo floor panels. Its journey halted in the center of the apartment room where, once out of steam, it whirled around in a circle before falling flat on the ground. The room was bare, close to empty, and consisted entirely of a fridge, an old wooden table and chair, a metal stove, and a bed beside a single window and closet. A bathroom door was also visible in the dim light from the window.

In the bed lay a bundle of blankets, twisted and wound in a tight spiral. From within the mound somewhere, deep breathing could be heard as the beds occupant finally began to wake. The tangled mass turned and withered across the squeaky mattress. Spring coils compressed and groaned under the weight of their captive. Finally a pale arm broke free or the prison, groping for air. The rest of the boy quickly followed the arm as he pulled his legs out of the mess and sat hunched over the side of his bed.

His wispy black hair fell onto his forehead and his bangs in front of his sunken, thin face. Wearing only pajama bottoms, the boy's body could easily be mistake for that of a gymnast. His lean muscles were relaxed as he ran his hands through his hair. Looking down at what his toe had bumped on the floor, he spied the shattered alarm clock and sighed meekly while shaking his head in amusement at the device.

With a small heave he hoisted himself out of bed and gingerly kicked the mangled clock under the bed. He strolled barefoot over to the closet, passing in front of the window and momentarily dousing the room in shadow. Once there he dove deep into the closet with his chiseled arms, digging for particular apparel.

With a smug look on his face he withdrew holding a black, wrinkled outfit. Carrying it by one of the many straps belted across it, he went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Water could be heard running through the pipes as he showered and bathed.

A paper pinned on the wall rustled slightly as a cool breeze from the open window jostled it. The paper reading in handwritten words:

_"We the Kages of the Village Hidden in Shadow, Yorizaru, have deemed Yoshin Rasha acceptable in the rudimentary skills and knowledge required of an Academy Student. Congratulations. "_

Rasha emerged from the bathroom fully clothed in his black outfit. A simple, form fitting t-shirt and shorts, accented by the various pouches and leather straps running across the shirt from shoulder to opposite hip. He dusted off his uniform, admiring the handiwork of the seamstress; he had had the suit custom made for his body.

After sitting back on the mattress he coiled his arms in black bandage tape from his exposed forearm to knuckle. He flexed his arms, testing the fabric, before standing and flipping over his mattress. Beneath lay an array of weapons and ninja tools; razor-edged kunai, a handful of sharp mikibishi, smoke bombs, shuriken, and a small pouch of senbon needles.

Rasha pocketed all but the senbons; knowing that they would be useless to him without more experience. Once his deadly arsenal was packed in the according pouches and holsters, Rasha, ignoring the door, turned to the window. As he sat upon the ledge he his eyes locked onto the door leading out of his room directly across the room; it had been nailed shut by many dusty wooden boards.

A strange look crossed Rasha's sharp, gray eyes; a combination of regret and frustrated indifference.

With a twist of his waist, he dropped from his second story room and into the dirt street below. He landed in a crouched and, using his momentum from the bounce, pushed off with his heels and was down the street like a shot. Once up to sprinting speed, Rasha tucked his head down below his shoulder line and tucked his midsection downwards. The end result was his head being three feet from the ground and his spinal column straight as a pole. His forward momentum, coupled with his unbalanced position tilting forward and his already built up speed, tripled his already blinding pace.

As the wind rippled his skin, Rasha smiled smugly. He was the fastest in his class by far; at top speeds like now he could easily outstrip all of his classmates twice over. By contacting the ground with only the balls of his feet, pumping his legs ferociously, and keeping his torso rigged, he had developed his own style of running. He was still working out the turning; at such speeds taking corners became perilously dangerous.

Rasha wasn't sure why he never showed his skills. In class, amongst others, he had never done anything but what was expected, never showing any of his true potential. He had a feeling that if he ever had to fight anyone in his own class, they would have little information on his abilities. Combining that lack of information on him, and the underestimation of him just being the "kid in the back of class", he would have a definite advantage over any of his peers.

Rasha leapt upwards and ricocheted off a building, back over the street, and onto a slanted rooftop, still moving. He pounded down the shingles, his sandals striking the plaster with unabated vengeance.

_"Today is the day."_

After three arduously long months of training amongst as colorful menagerie of fools you could muster, he would finally be moving on. Today was his chance to excel in front of the others, hence his weapon weighted outfit. If he passed today's final test he placed in a three-man team and trained alongside a Jounin; together they would perform actual missions for the village. It was the end of books, class clowns, and unendurably long hours spent inside.

_"Genin. I can't wait!"_

The red-roofed building that was his Academy School grew bigger with each blurred step before-

"Screeeech!"

Ten feet of skid marks in the dirt led to the standing position of Rasha; his arms crossed as he stared with murderous intent at the building in front of him. His cold gray eyes calculated and his mind worked away within. It would be the last time he looked upon the building as a student, inferior and unworthy. Today was the day for taking his first step towards many things; advancement in mind and body, self-sufficiency, and revenge.

_"Here. Today. Now!"_

Thanks for playing along, Rasha


	5. Chapter 2, Part 1

Need I say more?

Boring? Check!

Filler? Check!

Horrible character development? Double check!

Perfect!

And beware! It is looooong!

**Chapter #2, Part 1: **

**The 7th Leader, RyuKage**

It was eerily silent in the hallways of the school. Like the universal volume control had been turn down; even the chirping of the birds outside was inaudible. It was as if the entire structure had been soundproofed or ripped from reality itself as time slowed to a crawl.

Rasha padded down the empty hallway, his eyes flickering to the number above each door. Finally he stopped when he reached the doorway numbered five. As his hand reached up to open the sliding door, he remembered his first day in class three months ago. He smiled, recalling how his teacher had nearly ripped his own hair out in frustration of the class's general attitude of laziness and uncaring. That along with the several class clowns who made it a goal to drive the already emotionally taxed man to the brink of insanity made for an interesting first day.

Pulling the door aside, Rasha's earlier feeling of contempt towards his classmates was dashed to the wind; the assemble twenty students appeared to be contemplating their own previous inadequacies in the classroom leading up to this critical moment. A general feeling of dread pervaded the atmosphere in the room; certain students had what appeared to be a doomed grimace, while others remarkably sported a certain abandonment of emotion that lead to the assumption that the owner's brain was slowly working out a new method for breathing.

Rasha bit back a smile as he sat in the center of the class.

_"Fools. Now you see why you're supposed to _listen _in class!"_

The boy he was sitting next to was having a nervous breakdown; his knees knocking together in such rapid succession it made his teeth clatter. And now that he took the time to notice, the entire class was beginning to take note of his drastic change of both clothing and behavior. Having worn casual clothing and sat in the back of the class every day, his dramatic change to a weapon-wielding, armor-clad, battle-ready shinobi was not hard to miss.

Confidence surged through Rasha's veins as he realized that he was probably one of the few whom had even armed themselves before coming to class. Even now as he watched, a few kids around him began searching their desks for any spare chance of a forgotten weapon within. The boy with the shaky knees began viciously sharpening his pencil against the edge of his desk in utter desperation.

As the rest of the class worked itself into a silent state of pandemonium, Rasha began to wonder what would be on the test. But before he could begin the concentrate, the sensei walked into the class.

A generally boring man by nature, his usual personality was cast aside for a small smile and twinkle in his beady eyes. Wearing the customary attire of a Chuunin instructor, a white body suit and black pouch-covered vest, he twirled a kunai casually in his left hand.

"Good morning guys!" he chuckled, he eyes beaming at the assembled. His gazed locked onto Rasha for a moment before wrinkling into an ear-to-ear grin, "You're in luck!"

The class, already hanging on his every word, now sat on the edge of their seats holding their breath.

"No the exam is still on." The sensei confirmed, shaking his head slightly.

The class settled uncomfortably back down into its original stupor.

"But you should all be honored!" continued their sensei, "One of the Kages volunteer himself to test your prowess instead of me!"

The class, excluding Rasha and a few others, took the next few moments to collectively soil themselves.

_"A Kage?"_

"So, since we have about five minutes before he arrives," started the instructor as a broad wave of heavy, lama-type, breathing broke out in the class," I thought I would quiz you all on the basic's once more before he gets here."

_"And here we go."_

Rasha rolled his eyes. It seemed like every day the instructor would be forced to go over the painstakingly obvious for the uncaring few in class. As a side result Rasha had taken to daydreaming whenever the man would break into monologue for the benefit of the worse half.

Now, as the dull droning of the Chuunin buzzed around his head, he took the time to look out the window and think. His mind wandered around as he gazed at the darker outline of the ancient trees in the distance. At the orange streetlamps outside every building and around every corner, giving a poor imitation of daytime.

It wasn't unusual for Rasha, living in a village of constant night, for he had been born and raised in the darkness and knew nothing else. Sure, there were patches of clearing in the forest where a little sunlight could get through, but on a whole he had never seen his home without it doused in shadows. From above the entire ghostly outlines of buildings could be seen, broken sometimes by the illuminating streetlights. It was that simple; patches of light surrounded by unchanging darkness.

As Rasha snapped himself out of his trance, the sensei was winding up from his speech," –and you will all do fine as long as you remember what you've learned over the past three mon-"

The sensei's words were cut short by the arrival of a man clothed in black robes and wearing a black, rounded hat decorated with gray kanji that sat upon his head like a turtle shell. Several scars cut the old, wrinkled face of the man and his beady eyes sized up the students with piercing scrutiny. He was the seventh Kage of the village, RyuKage.

"Out of your seats! Now!" barked the miserable old man, his small eyes shifting through the class as he ignored the Chuunin instructor. The students leapt to their feet in unison, their postures ridged. "Follow me and keep you mouths shut!"

The students followed the short, old man out into the hallway, then out of the school. He led them around the building to the large training playground behind the school that was used primarily for weapons and large-scale genjutsu techniques. Once in the courtyard, the Kage made them line up along the eastern wall encasing the grounds.

"Your test begins now! You are to st-"

"Sir?" interrupted a small, mousy haired boy at one end of the line.

RyuKage turned on the spot and glared at the unfortunate boy," What? What is it?"

"A-Aren't w-we supposed t-to…individually ta-"

"Did I ask for your opinion?" spat the Kage into the boy's face. Not waiting for the terrified boy to answer, he continued in a mocking voice," You will speak only when I address you! And since you seem to be so eager to participate, you will be the first to fail in front of your peers!"

The wretched Kage stepped back to address the class, pulling the boy by the lapels of his shirt before the others," Your first test, by far the simplest, is to hit a target with a kunai."

Hearing this the class relaxed; the sensei had taken them through the weapons training portion of an obstacle course just yesterday. However what little hope seeping back into them was immediately squashed as the Kage pointed and said," Your target is there!"

His hooked finger led their eyes to the "target"; a miniscule wooden circle three diameters wide nailed to a stick jutting out of the ground. This tiny bull's-eye would be hard enough to hit without it being close to one hundred feet away. Thankfully the courtyard was well lit enough to see the target clearly, but it would not help much.

The boy mumbled something that Rasha couldn't hear, but guessed by the furious reaction from the Kage what he said.

"WHAT! You are completely weaponless! This is unacceptable! You stand before me, believing you are of Genin quality, and come to class unarmed!" shouted the Kage, his face contorting in rage.

"Ryukage?"

The enraged leader turned to find the Chuunin instructor leaning against the wall of the school, his arms crossed," I brought this bundle of kunai just in case of this situation." The instructor tossed the leather bundle to the Kage who easily caught the package in one hand while muttering under his breath.

After handing a throwing knife to the boy, he waited, impatiently tapping his foot by his side. Rasha knew he had a snowball's chance in hell of hitting the target; it was a difficult challenge even for a person who had practiced weapon-throwing everyday. Rasha knew that most who did not have the power or experienced to throw that hard would be tempted to hurl the kunai at an upwards angle and hope to hit the target on the downfall. But at the angle that the kunai would fall would lessen the surface area the knife could strike. This information would be coveted information should Rasha care to share it, especially the student up on the stand; the boy was one of the class clowns.

Nonetheless the boy raised a shaking hand and hurled the kunai with all his might upwards. The weapon arched before sticking into the ground ten feet from the target.

Between a cracked smile the Kage snarling laughter taunted the boy's efforts before calling," Next!"

Rasha watched as his fellow classmates each took their turn, each failing as miserably as the last. But Rasha couldn't judge, most of the other students were poor marksmen, and some of the actual serious participants had yet to go. However you would think the Kage was enjoying his tormenting challenge, as he sneered at the best efforts of the students. He taunted them with snobbish remarks and snappy insults as each student's face fell along with their inaccurate blade.

Rasha's pity for his fellow trainees began to be overshadowed by his anger towards the miserable little man in black as he repeatedly disgraced the students. It was unnecessarily cruel and inhuman. Needless to say, he was simmering beneath his veiled face when Ryukage called out his name.

Ignoring the kunai held in the Kage's crumpled hand, he drew his own from a pouch on his belt. Twirling the thin handle of the double-edged weapon skillfully between his smooth fingers he was resulted with the small, but distinct whistle of rushing air passing over the metal loop at the end of the taped handle.

Ryukage turned his back to Rasha and shouted over the whirling noise to the instructor, stilling leaning against the wall," Well, here is a surprise! One of your students actually comes to class prepared! Perhaps your teachings are not entirely inadequ-"

_SCHINK!_

The whirling noise stopped. The Kage turned slowly, his eyes wide, to look at the target of wood a hundred feet away. But the circle was no longer there; further investigation revealed the kunai that had been through was pinning the target to a wooden fence ten feet beyond the stick in the ground. The blade had been flung with such force that it had traveled a hundred feet, striking the target hard enough to rip it from its mounted perch, and carry it another ten feet before embedding itself into a wall.

The Kage was dimly aware of his jaw hitting his toes.

"Keep the insults to yourself, Pal." Came a cool voice behind him.

Ryukage turned to see Rasha, his arms crossed with a blank look on his face. Was this boy ordering _him_? The nerve! The audacity! One so inferior did not dare to look at him with those cold eyes, let alone scold him like a mother would a child!

"Show some respect to your betters, boy!" shouted the Kage, his voice rising in pitch as veins pulsed in his head.

"The second you show some to others." Came the curt reply.

Ryukage nearly choked on his frustration. The _arrogance_! This boy had to be taught a lesson in rank; brought down a notch from his high little world he lived in. "Do you know what I think?" the Kage asked, his face merely inches from Rasha's, I think you waited for me to turn my back on you so you could cheat!"

Ryukage knew that his eyes did not deceive him as a dark shadow passed momentarily over the boy's face. His gray eyes became frigid cold, his muscles in his neck flexing. But as quickly as it came it flickered and was gone, leaving behind the blank and unreadable, sunken face of Rasha. The Kage stood with his right side to the target still, perpendicular to the line of students as he stared down the young boy, waiting for him to retort.

There was a rapid blur of motion; a rippling airwave sent by the speed of movement followed by a second distinct-

_SCHINK!_

Rasha's left arm was now pointing straight at the target, which now held was impaled by a second kunai. Ryukage's mind worked out the details quickly; his sharp eyes were own of the few who had followed the entire action start to finish. The boy had, at lightning speed, drawn a second kunai and in the same motion of raising it to eye level in a lengthy arc, let the knife fly. It was fast but it is not what the Kage was most intrigued in; if he recalled correctly Rasha had been twirling the first kunai in his _right_ hand.

_"He threw that with his offhand?"_ thought the Kage incredulously.

Rasha did not respond, but refolded his arms and waited for the old man's response. Ryukage's eyes narrowed as his mind worked feverously. Rasha settled into a more comfortable footing; he could tell when a monologue was coming on.

Sure enough the Kage turned on the spot and faced the stunned spectators of the class. His face uncharacteristically beaming with joy he said in his warmest voice," Congratulations, everyone passes!"

The sensei's eyes nearly disappeared into his hairline. He had heard that the seventh Kage was slightly unfair and hard to please man by nature, but this was more than that. This was breaking the rules!

Meanwhile Rasha was already expecting the Kage's next move; he knew when a person had a chip on their shoulder and this man outright hated him for whatever reason. So he relaxed his posture as much a possible, trying to conserve all energy for whatever ridiculous, undeserved test would be next. And as expected…

"But," said the Kage, turning to Rasha with a twisted grin on his scarred face, " your skills are laughable!"

From where he was standing Rasha could see the astounded expressions of his fellow classmates behind Ryukage's back. Whispers broke out like wildfire amongst the ninja ranks as the children wondered in amazement what the Kage's grudge was against the boy in black.

"Silence!" scolded the Kage over his shoulder, quieting the students. He turned back to Rasha, his previous annoyance once again substituted by a beaming grin as his cold eyes matched his voice," Being both humble and generous, I will give you one more chance to pass this examination! But if you fail this challenge you will not become a Genin or ever be accepted into the Ninja Academy again! It is your choice to whether to continue or not!"

_"Choose!"_

And there it is. Trust me, I will make sure that Rasha ( it is almost like speaking in third person…) does not become godlike. Remember he lives alone (we will find out why later, trust me) so he has nothing better to do than practice out of sheer boredom. If you guys had kunai just laying around the house and could hurl them left and right without a pesky neighbor, or the proper authorities, taking notice, wouldn't you?

Thanks for playing along, Rasha


	6. Chapter 2, Part 2

**Chapter #2, Part 2:**

**For What Matters Most**

Renkuno Sensei was a simple man. He did not want much from life and was already grateful for what it had given him. What more could one ask for when his dreams had already been answered. He had achieved his greatest ambition at the age of twenty; he was an influential Chuunin Instructor. Now, having experienced all that the career had to offer, he was planning on settling down for good. Maybe open a ramen shop not far from the Academy where he could hear the children laughing. It was nearly time to retire from shinobihood.

So it went without saying that he did not need any more drama in his life. But here he was, watching as one of his most overlooked students stared eye to eye with one of the leaders of the village, Ryukage. He had never paid much attention to Rasha, but it seemed that he had mistaken the average, quiet cadet. So the new Rasha stood with bold determination, his arms crossed, as the Kage's ludicrous demand was thrown out in the courtyard.

The sensei could already judge by the boy's unchanged attitude what his answer was.

"Fine." Said Rasha flatly.

The other students in line were giving each other silent looks and pantomiming their surprise by Rasha's acceptance. It was not worth the risk; putting everything he had worked for on one wager of skill. There would be more opportunities for Rasha to become a Genin later; but it appeared that Rasha would either not wait, or simply wouldn't stand for the Kage's shenanigans.

Renkuno's hopes of being left out of this dramatic climax were ruined as the short, grumpy Ryukage turned to were he was leaning against the Academy wall and shouted," Renkuno! Who is your star pupil in this year's batch?"

Renkuno took small, inner enjoyment in tormenting the unfair Kage and let a little of it show in his voice as he casually answered," Judging from what I've seen, my first vote goes out to Yoshin Rasha."

"Second then!" spat the miserable man.

"That would be Kaguya Sheiji."

"Then step forward Sheiji!" commanded Ryukage as he turned to the line of students, his arms spread. A boy with shoulder length white hair and white clothing slowly stepped forward. Ryukage strolled over to the young boy and put a thin, wrinkly arm around his shoulder. Looking the solemn-faced Sheiji in the eye as he pointed with his other arm at the boy in black he said confidently," You are going to fight him!"

Sheiji's left eye twitched.

"Both of you will battle until the other is incapacitated." Said the Kage, stepping between the two," Take your places in the center of the courtyard!"

As the boy's walked into the well-lit, grassy square and took up their positions twenty feet from the other, Renkuno wondered who would be the victor.

_"Sheiji has been the class leader in field training. The boy is not as book smart as others in the class, but he can put the others to shame in the real world."_ He thought to himself,"_ But if the weapon skill Rasha portrayed earlier is more than a fluke, he might give Sheiji a run for his money, especially if his brisk movement transfers into raw combat."_

Ryukage took his place between the teenagers, his smug face curled into a sick sneer. He raised his right hand high into the air and said in an obviously fate, innocent tone," Oh, and by the way! The use of weapons is forbidden!"

_"Now he has taken away one trick in your arsenal, Rasha. Has he stolen your only gimmick or is he just scratching the surface?"_ questioned the sensei,_" Does your bag of tricks go any deeper?"_

Sheiji settled into a bouncy taijutsu stance with his bony fists clenched in front of his face. Rasha instead stood rigid as a jackknife, sticking straight out of the ground with the seal of the ram beneath his chin. Looking closer the sensei also observed that Rasha apparently had his eyes closed; his long bangs falling over his bowed head.

The tension was building as the Kage waited, his hand still raised. A soft breeze curled around the gathered and rustled the few short trees that grew along the western perimeter fence. The loose clothing of Sheiji flowed from the gentle caress while Rasha's form-fitting battle gear rippled around his shoulders. Renkuno thought he smelled flower petals on the breeze.

_"Begin!"_

Sheiji wasted no time in launching himself full speed at Rasha's stiff form, covering the twenty paces between them in seconds. Wordlessly, he raised his right fist, putting his full weight and momentum behind the blow that would catch Rasha on his bowed head. Despite the imminent danger drawing increasingly closer by the millisecond, Rasha remained poised in his unmoving stance, waiting.

Then, at the last possible moment before impact…Sheiji missed.

Renkuno chuckled on the inside as the Academy students stared with amazement. Sheiji stumbled and nearly fell flat on his face, feeling the same sensation as taking that last step up a flight of stairs and over stepping onto an imaginary stair that you assumed was there. He spun on the spot, his white hair whirling around his head, to stare at what he understood to be Rasha.

The boy in black still stood holding his hands together below his bowed head facing the direction Sheiji had come from. His open back was now exposed to Sheiji, but the student was too curious as to what had happened.

_"An illusion would have dispersed when I struck it."_ He thought, staring hard at his opponents backside,"_ Then could this be something else?"_

The sensei knew the untrained eyes of the students were not quick enough to catch Rasha's movement. He had, unmistakably, dodged the punch at such a speed that Sheiji or the class could not see it. Rasha had bent backwards like a springboard and dodged the punch altogether before snapping back into place. All the students had seen was a fist passing through the head of Rasha, a speed unheard of in Academy Students.

"What are you waiting for?" screeched the Kage who had now moved back in front of the line of children," He has his back to you, strike him down!"

Renkuno watched with mute interest as Sheiji attacked again, this time drawing a reaction from Rasha. The speedy boy spun to face Sheiji and moved backwards with his attack. Sheiji's confidence returning, he launched flurries of punches and kicks at his once prone opponent. But Rasha's velocity was unmatched as he effortlessly dodged all of his adversary's assaults. He rolled around kicks, ducked beneath punches, and leaned inches out of knees thrust with blinding swiftness.

Rasha was learning Sheiji.

A technique that was usually known to Chuunins; let your opponent go on the offensive and gain knowledge of their fighting style. This strategy only works if the user outclasses or is just plain faster than the attacker. It was a game of patience, waiting for the precise moment to strike as the enemy wastes his chakra on unsuccessful attacks. Renkuno speculated as to what Rasha had in mind to turn the tables.

Meanwhile in the mist of the hailstorm of blows, Rasha could feel the frustration of his opponent as he slid beneath a right backhand. His opponent was too straightforward. Perfectly timed and placed punches followed by textbook spinning kicks; his opponent's attacks were so organized that Rasha could nearly predict each following strike. It was not that the Kaguya boy wasn't good; it was that his moves were too predictable.

"_Sometimes a more unorthodox style can prevail where the textbook fails you!"_ thought Rasha as he sidestepped a drop kick aimed for his right shoulder. Sheiji was letting his aggravation get the better of him and becoming increasingly violent in his strikes; Rasha could hear his teeth grinding in irritation. It would not be long before he would throw too powerful an attack and overbalance himself, leaving a minute hole of opportunity.

"_Now!"_ thought Rasha as Sheiji heaved a devastating right punch much like the first at Rasha's head and in the process stepping forward; moving his center of gravity to his precariously placed right foot turned at just too much an angle inwards.

Rasha, facing the blow dead on, spun downwards a full one hundred and eighty degrees, and let the punch soar over his right shoulder. He grabbed the arm of his stunned assaulter and, pulling outwards and down while rolling his hunched shoulders, flipped Sheiji clean over his head.

Sheiji raised his hands above his head to meet the ground below and re-flip himself forward to gain distance between himself and Rasha, but the boy in black was not done with him yet.

_THUD!_

Spinning on his right heel outwards, Rasha delivered a crushing roundhouse kick to the unguarded chest of Sheiji with his left sandal. The force of the blow carried the white-haired boy, still upside down, fifteen feet before he came to a crashing halt at the feet of no one other than Ryukage.

The unbelieving senior looked down at the unconscious form of Sheiji in shock. The star pupil had failed to land a single blow on the boy in black who stood once again with his lean arms crossed in the courtyard. Ryukage's mind was struggling to work out a new, even more challenging test for Rasha as the victor yelled coolly to Renkuno," I believe you have something for me sensei!"

Silently Renkuno smiled as he drew from within his many pouches a black band of cloth with a curved band of metal woven into its center. Inscribed on the shining metal protector was a black circle with seven arched tails spinning from its sides, the symbol of Yorizaru; the symbol of one's initiation into the family of shinobihood, a sign of dedication to your beloved home, and the indication of passing the Academy.

Renkuno smoothly tossed the item to Rasha, who upon catching it tied it proudly around his forehead and under his bangs. He had passed.

As he turned and began to go home Rasha heard Ryukage shouting something behind which was quickly deafened by an outburst of joyous cheering and bellowing from his classmates. Renkuno was gingerly passing out forehead protectors to everyone, save a few class clowns. Their outburst winded the Kage's calls of rage; stopping him from continuing out of pure circumstance.

Rasha could hear his classmates being congratulated by their parents and relatives who had showed up outside the building, awaiting their child's fate. The dark did not put a hamper of the cheerful moment. Families greeted each other and their offspring with flee regardless of the shadows.

Rasha decided to walk home, just this once.

Thanks for playing along, Rasha


	7. Chapter 3, Part 1

Here it is, the moment you've all been waiting for, another sad attempt of mine to string words in to sentences! Yaaaaay! By the way, when it says "night-day", it is just that it is both. During the day in Yorizaru it is black outside, as it is during the night. So they have two different nights, the night-day and the regular night. They are only distinguishable by time and few other things.

**Chapter #3: Part 1:**

**Second Squad**

It was a beautiful Monday morning; as far a beautiful Mondays could go in complete darkness. The many crows of village were squawking jubilantly as head-size maple leafs floated lazily down from above. Even the monstrous wolves that prowled the woods during the night-day were howling their echoing songs off of the monstrous trunks of the forest somewhere just out of sight.

Even without it being the final day Rasha would ever have to spend inside when he would much rather be outside, it was a marvelous day. But here he was, trying his hardest to hold in his anticipation and misery of enduring the last day of school. He impatiently drummed his fingers on the edge of his desk.

After being placed into teams of three, each squad of Genins would be trained by an individual Jounin instructor. From there the team would do low-priority missions, D-Rank, for the benefit of the citizens of Yorizaru. Though it was such an exhilarating feeling of being an actual ninja, most knew that in the beginning the tasks were usually hard labor or remedial chores.

But you would think that the class had been assigned to an S-Rank mission from the intense atmosphere in the classroom. Students were shifting in their seats, trying to get as comfortable as possible without bursting out in excitement. Even the cool-heads were irritably itching their arms.

Rasha looked around himself again counting the heads, twelve total. He was half relieved that the class clowns had been failed, and half sorry that they weren't passed so they could get their butts handed to them. Still, there was just enough students left for four separate squads; meaning that there would be four different teams competing for D-Rank mission and eventually C-Rank.

Rasha was adjusting his headband as Renkuno sensei walked casually into the room. The sensei, ignoring his chair, sat upon his desk and held the clipboard in his left hand up to eye level as he said in his typical monotone," Alright guys, you did it. You are all now going to be placed into teams of three, as I'm sure you know. Once I announce your team I will also give you the location that you are to meet your new instructor."

Here Renkuno paused and lowered the clipboard slightly so he could look directly at the group," I want all of you know that I'm very proud of you. You kids, with the exception of the few who didn't make the cut, have been some of the most talented I've seen come through this program."

There was an awkward pause that lasted a grueling ten seconds, at the end of which a few people decided to breath. Feeling he had drawn every last shred of conformability out of the moment, he finally decide to continue," So without further delay, here are the teams."

Rasha watched as, after being called, Team 1 walked out of the room. He was willing to put good money on it that, as soon as the door had closed, they had darted as fast as their legs could carry them to their new instructor. Sure enough, within seconds of the door's closing, three speeding forms could be seen out the window dashing away into the night-day.

_"Come on! I want out of here!"_ he screamed on the inside.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Second Squad is Yoshin Rasha, Buuyo Moroku, and Intarea Genji." Read the sensei," You three are to meet your Jounin in half and hour at Gate Two!"

The three boys stood and walked as slowly out of the room as their tensed bodies would permit. Rasha's nearly trembling hand opened the door for both his new teammates and closed it behind him in the hallway. Turning around he was given the first impression of his new partners.

One boy had thick, brown hair tied in a ponytail and a square face. His beady, caring eyes looked oddly out of place on such a broad body. The light blue t-shirt and tan kakis did a poor job of hiding the boy's bulging muscles. From the look of his large arms he could easily wield the wide, two-handed broadsword over his left shoulder with ease. A few pockets served him as secondary weapon holsters, below which he had tied his forehead protector around his thigh.

The second boy was stood a little shorter than Rasha and had a small, quirky face. He wore a white collared tunic and had a long red sash that wrapped around his waist; the tail of it flowed down the outside of his left leg over his loose, brown slacks. His messy red hair was spiky and fell down to his brown eyes. Rasha thought he looked rather strained though; his thin arms were hugged against his torso with his hands tucked into the sash.

After looking from one to the other, Rasha cocked an eyebrow and said more than asked," Shall we skip the introductions?"

The two strangers nodded in unison and the three were off.

They bolted down the hallways, out the front door, and into the still night-day air scattering a cloud of white moths that were lingering around the orange streetlight above the double-doors. They ran at breakneck speed, Rasha holding back some, down the dirt streets. Passing beneath every illuminated patch of sidewalk in blurs, they fanned out side by side.

The boy with the sword and the ponytail launched himself skyward and became a black silhouette running along the peak of the rooftops. Meanwhile the boy with the sash could be seen below sprinting down the empty street, his blood-red garment flowing behind him like an exuberant tail. Rasha however, shot from building to building, rebounding from window ledge to tiled surface back and forth across the street.

Rasha smiled.

_"I wager we look pretty cool right now."_

Seven minutes and forty-seven seconds later they arrived at the small, gate labeled number two that separate the village from the massive maple trees. Sword-boy collapsed against the steel grating and slid to the ground. The sash-wearer didn't appear too worn out and simply stood there in the center of the path with his hands in his sash. Rasha on the other hand, having completed about half of his morning routine sprint, was still only getting warmed up. He crossed his arms and slouched coolly against the back wall of the building faced away from the gate.

Once sword-boy had regained his wind, Rasha started the introductions," The name is Rasha."

"Moroku." Said the boy with the sash quietly, his eyes on his toes.

"Genji." Rumbled the sword-boy as he nodded to them both from his sitting position.

"I guess we're Second Squad then." Said Rasha looking Moroku in the eye.

"I guess so." He replied.

"Hey." Breathed Genji, drawing both of their attentions," We should name our squad."

"Sounds cheesy." Said Moroku, his shyness wearing off.

"Nah, lets think of something." Argued Rasha, despite thinking Moroku had a point," Just make it serious."

They sat in silence, pondering what sort of name wouldn't earn a snicker or roll of the eyes when heard, something elemental or symbolic. While they thought the weightless, massive, whirling leaves dropped from above; giant leathery tarps that floated into view of the lamplight they sat beneath. They piled on the ground before they were picked up once more in the gentle breeze and floated into the forest.

_"Sort of like dead, green bats."_ Thought Rasha_," Wait a minute."_

"How about Shadow-Wing?" asked Rasha.

Moroku and Genji looked momentarily at each other before nodding their heads in agreement," Sure sounds good-I like it."

"Second Squad." Said Moroku as he turned to look at the forest.

"Team Two." replied Genji as he joined Moroku.

"Shadow-Wing." Confirmed Rasha as he stood between his two teammates and joined in staring at the night-day's subtle beauty.

"Shadow-Wing."

And there it is! I know, more boring stuff, but I can't help it. So I also decide to do something new for these bland ending paragraphs. I will now announce the name of the next chapter; giving this tasteless dribble after the story some much needed suspense! So, coming soon to a computer screen near you:

**Chapter #3, Part 2:**

**Sokaru Sensei**

Thanks for playing along, Rasha


	8. Chapter 3, Part 2

**Chapter #3, Part 2**

**Sokaru Sensei**

Mondays. He hated Mondays and everything they meant. Mondays meant getting up early, going to work after another restful weekend of relaxation. This foul day meant going back to see them stare, his coworkers. He knew they talked about him behind his back and he resented their feelings towards him, good or bad. Some thought him useless, a prehistoric relic kept around out of either habit or stubbornness. Others looked at him with pity, dodging his stare when he talked to them. And still more, mostly the ones that had the unfortunate opportunity to see him work, looked at him as a malevolent weapon incapable of mercy of remorse.

But his Monday was special. In light of his long history of servitude and his age, but mostly, he suspected, to get him out of the way, he had been demoted. The scroll had been delivered almost two days ago by a KOZU, an extreme precaution to his attitude he assumed, sending an elite assassin of Yorizaru to deliver a simple message. His superiors considering him dangerous enough to attack a messenger flattered a part of him, the young part he guessed.

So here he was, trudging down a miserable dirt road reading a meaningless book that was so utterly simplistic that he had to reread every paragraph before it sank in.

"An Idiots Guide to Training Genin's; A Step-By-Step Walkthrough on How Not to Die"

Sokaru had flipped through the first chapter, incapable of believing that he had ever been as stupid and weak as the book portrayed Genin's to be. It was impossible for him to have never known such infantile talents; how to create a Shadow Clone was the village's most basic genjutsu technique. Despite it all, he continued reading.

"Your first meeting with the students," began the book," should be friendly and encouraging. It is rare that the individuals will not already know each other, but ask some basic questions to get a general idea of their characters. Once you've established a first-name basis, it is recommended for you to give the children a day before starting training.

As for your first training test, the most suggested and popular idea is called the "Bells Test". By tying two be-"

"_Yeah, yeah, yeah"_ interrupted Sokaru's mind as he stuffed the book back into a pouch_," I've heard this all before, but I doubt that these weak little punks will be able to pull their fingers out of their sniveling noses long enough to try!"_

Sokaru reached into a second pocket and pulled out two twinkling bells; he had read the first chapter last night as well. He, having not had a decent conversation with someone for the past five years, had had to write down some questions to ask the Genin about themselves. It had taken him most of the night, finally giving up after he had gotten so frustrated that he kicked his cat, Phelis, through the upstairs window.

Sokaru turned a corner after slipping the bells into his pocket and soundlessly trying to recall where he had gotten a cat. But his own thoughts were interrupted again as he was greeted with the sight of three boys standing fifty feet away, all waiting for him. The thin one was wearing mostly white and had a deep red sash wrapped around his waist, while another had a ponytail and a large sword on his back. The last, standing between the two had black-bandaged arms and a black bodysuit.

"Here goes nothing."

Rasha was standing between Genji and Moroku, staring at the forest when an old man turned the corner to their right. The vest of a Jounin was the only sign that told Rasha it was his new instructor. The man appeared to be in his late forties, his short-cropped, brown hair graying around the temples that showed above his headband. Two scars parted his lined, leathery face, one running over his left eye and down to his jaw, the other starting at the left temple and crossing to his right cheek. His cold, green eyes stared through them, calculating. But his most distinguishing feature was not on his aged face.

He was missing his left arm. Rasha tried his hardest not to stare, but it was blatant. The man walked off balanced by his absent limb, his left shoulder higher than his right. His traditional Jounin jumpsuit of black had been sewn together where his left arm should be.

Rasha looked back and forth between Genji and Moroku, blank stares meeting his own. They turned back to gape at the man they knew was their instructor as he took the final few steps to them. Not bothering to stop for their part he growled," Follow me."

Rasha and Genji sidestepped as the man elbowed his way past them and out the gate into the forest. The three shared one bewildered glance behind Sokaru's back before following numbly after him. The old man led them into the giant forest whose massive, moss-covered roots rose out of the ground fifty feet above their heads. Vines and tangles of plants dangled from the canopy above. They trekked together wordlessly for twenty minutes before coming to Clearing Seven.

There were twelve clearings around Yorizaru that had large enough gaps in the canopy of leaves and branches to allow some sunlight through. They were used as training grounds for young ninja squads, like themselves, and had to be booked for a certain time and group. This, unknown to Rasha, was one of the few times Genji and Moroku had ever seen sunlight. This clearing was speckled with sunspots, tiny gaps that sunlight pierced through that danced with the wind. The gap of trees was close to an acre in size with a large stone at one end.

The instructor sat upon a root rising out of the ground like a bench at the edge of the clearing and motioned for the three to sit before him. Once they had all collapsed onto the soft grass they sat waiting. After running a icy green eye over them the old man began," My name is Sokaru. You three will call me Sokaru Sensei, got it?"

Sokaru paused, remembering what the book had said, and tried to crack a smile. The end result was more of a grimace than anything, but at least he had tried. He slipped back into his gloomy demeanor and said," So, tell me something about yourselves; give me your name, a few hobbies, and whatever your goals are."

"You!" he said, pointing at Genji, who flinched at the gesture," Start talking."

"My name is Intarea Genji." He said, his original go-happy attitude returning quickly," I like to work out and play kickball, and I want to be a master swordsman when I grow up!"

Sokaru grunted in response and nodded to Moroku to start. Moroku fiddled with the fabric of his sash as he said in his shy, small voice," My name is Buuyo Moroku. I-I like to…play chess and stuff. I-I want to b-be a great ninja like my uncle."

"All right, next." Ordered Sokaru.

"Yoshin Rasha." Said Rasha, his voice level," I like to read and I am going be a member of KOZU, Hunter Ninja Division."

Sokaru sat in silence thinking sarcastically to himself_," So, my team consists of an optimistic clown, a shy mama's boy, and a smooth talker. Perfect."_

"Alright, you each have your own, impossible-to-reach goals, as expected." Started Sokaru confidently, but his words stumbled as he decide against what the book had said," I'm supposed to let you fools go for the day and start practice tomorrow, but to hell with that! Your training begins today."

Sokaru noted the curled smile of Rasha as Genji high-fived a weak grinning Moroku. The three wouldn't be so happy by the time this day was over. Sokaru dug into his pouch and pulled out the bells as the three stood with him," You mission is simple; get a bell. Who ever doesn't get a bell gets sent back to the Academy."

This was followed by silence as horror gripped the three.

Sokaru tied the bells to the side that was missing an arm and said," That's right. The one who doesn't get a bell goes back. The other two get to stay and be Genin."

Genji and Moroku glanced at one another with cold eyes.

"Prepare yourselves." Warned Sokaru, the twin bells jingling at his side. The three boys made separate hand signs over their chest and tensed their bodies. Sokaru noted that Rasha had his eyes closed as he raised his one hand above his head holding a timer," You have two hours."

_Click_

"Begin!"

And there you have it, I couldn't really think of anything quite as brilliant as the bells test, so I reworked it a bit. I promise I won't play the Second Squad off as "gods", trust me. I hope you guys like how it is going so far, and I hope Sokaru will go down as one of the first handicapped Shinobis in a fanfiction!

Thank you for playing along, Rasha


	9. Chapter 4, Part 1

**Chapter 4, Part #1:**

**Genji versus Sokaru**

_"Begin!"_

Sokaru watched as within a second, the trio disappeared into the foliage. Rasha was the first to go, his prone form flickering twice to the left before disappearing. Moroku had vanished in a swirl of red material that had spun upwards and out of sight. But Genji, with his girth and muscle was easy enough to follow; his long jump launched himself high into the canopy of leaves above.

The trees parted and moved unnaturally for a moment before going back into the rhythmic swaying in the breeze. All was still save for the forest, dancing with life in the sun. The ankle-deep grass rippled in the wind, waving around the motionless instructor.

Sokaru was left alone in the clearing, thinking to himself," Well, at least they can conceal themselves prop-"

Sensing a disturbance above him, Sokaru rolled to his left, just barely avoiding a demolishing attack from Genji. Sokaru rotated back onto his feet as Genji stood from his crouching position," That was no fisticuff; you are striking to kill."

_"Maybe he has some talent after all. Even if he is impatient!"_ Thought Sokaru, eyeing Genji.

Giant maple leafs flew between them as Genji noted," You move better than you let on."

Sokaru grinned as he remembered the last actual fight he had been in; sure five years was a long time to go without seeing combat but his occupation never required him to fight. He wondered if he still had what it took to take down three sniveling wimps after that long a respite.

_"Who says an old dog can't relearn old tricks?"_ thought Sokaru as Genji reached slowly over his shoulder.

"You had better prepare yourself Sokaru." Said Genji as he firmly grasped the bandaged handle of his broadsword," Because I'm getting a bell if I have to cut a leg off."

With a hard tug, Genji drew his deadly weapon. Out of its sheath, the massive blade was a beauty to stare at. Two straight edges ran parallel for six feet of metal, sharpened to a gleaming edge. At the end of the blade there was a hole five inches in diameter, just before the end of the sword curled upwards like a water droplet.

"This sword was made by my grandfather, the best blacksmith in the world, just for me!" commentated Genji, has he let the weapon fall into his two-handed stance.

Sokaru ran his green eyeballs over the child, before telling him casually," You won't hit me with that blade, boy."

Genji's big face contorted, his eyebrows furrowing together in anger, before he launched himself at Sokaru. He sliced from right to left, aiming for the man's midsection. Sokaru ducked beneath the blade, however Genji continued his swing around his back, switching his hands into a reverse grip. His next swing came from the same direction but aimed low to Sokaru's bobbing head.

But the wily instructor leapt clean over Genji's head, behind him before the blade could connect. Sokaru spun mid-air and landed facing Genji's open backside and continued backing up as the boy revolved and lashed out with his sword. For such a big blade, the boy wielded it expertly and swiftly, twirling his risks at angles to maneuver the cutting edge of the broadsword. His sword dazzled in the beams of light from above while Genji slashed repeatedly at Sokaru, missing sometimes by inches.

Genji's right arm was on fire, burning from within; he was sure of this, the pain was so extreme. It felt like white-hot clamps were pulling his muscles apart in his arm. The burning sensation continued as his lashed over and over again at his fleeing opponent. He had practiced with a sword for years, but never this strenuously. He gave his arm a minute, minute and a half if he pushed it, before it gave out.

He needed to finish this fast.

As Sokaru leaned to his right to dodge another spinning body slash, he braced himself from falling using his right hand. The giant sword would have separated his left arm from his shoulder had he had one. But doing this, he quickly realized, left his exposed left side open; the bells were jingling out in the open to grab.

However Genji was too preoccupied in drawing blood from the frustratingly agile instructor. He lifted the blade high over his head and brought it crashing down to earth. Sokaru back-flipped out of the way, dodging the attack. The sword struck the ground with enough force to crack the ground, splitting the grass between Genji's feet. But, using the momentum of swinging downward, he pushed off with his feet forward, front-flipping himself high into the air.

Sokaru was just landing from his back flip as the boy pointed his giant weapon straight down, preparing to drive the rounded tip through Sokaru's upper torso lengthwise. The sensei barely back-stepped in time before the sword embedded itself in the ground. Genji, still falling however, had different plans.

Nimbly for his big size, he landed on his left leg and kicked the blunted edge of the blade with his right foot. The cutting edge swiveled upwards in a circular arc slicing viciously through the air.

_"Well, what do you know?_ Thought Sokaru astonished.

Sokaru glanced down at his Jounin vest, now button-less and open.

_"That was close!"_

Genji, stood stock still holding the sword with both hands, amazed at his accomplishment. His beady black eyes widened as he stared at the open vest. But his eyes retracted as he settled back into his offensive demeanor. His right arm was going numb from the strain.

"You're not so good." He taunted the sensei, trying to buy time.

Sokaru cocked an eyebrow," Is that so?"

"Yes," confirmed Genji as he blinked sweat from his eyes," it-"

_SMACK!_

Genji was sent flying backwards from a right punch he never saw coming. He skidded along the dark grass before curling up into a ball. His stomach was destroyed, he was sure that nothing inside him could have survived that blow. Surely a brick had been thrown at him, so hard was the strike to his gut.

A shadow in the shape of a one-armed man blocked his view of the canopy," You are a fool."

Sokaru lifted the large boy up off of the ground with his one arm by the collar of his blue shirt. He looked into the boy's square face with his cold eyes. Genji's left arm desperately wound up for a punch.

Sokaru twisted his hips and threw the boy ten feet into a large tree root. Genji's limp form slammed into the wood seconds before another speeding fist collided with his mouth. The back of his head smashed into the bark a second time and he collapsed on the ground face first.

Sokaru stood over the prone form of the boy; he had knocked Genji out cold. He predicted it would be a couple of hours at least before he would awaken. By that time, he knew, the test would be over. Genji was out of the running; blood dripped from his mouth onto the grass, gleaming in the sun.

The instructor felt partly secure, sure of his prowess all along in combat despite the five year absence. The other part of him wanted to jump up and down in a victory that felt too good to be true. But Sokaru reassured himself, yes; he had not lost his touch after all these years.

_"The boy never stood a chance."_ He proudly thought as he sauntered over to where his many buttons littered the ground. Still brimming on the inside, the old man bent over to pick up a stray button.

_Pssssssssssssssthp!_

A whistling noise came from his right and Sokaru rolled over on his left side as several shuriken whizzed by overhead.

He rose to his feet as he spied the small boy with the blanket standing on a root at the edge of the forest. The boy's face wasn't that of amusement or even malice, but guilt. He appeared ashamed at attacking Sokaru.

_"Guilt won't buy you pity from me."_ thought Sokaru as his pride returned to him; this was just another sniveling kid, half the size of the boy with the sword.

"So," Started Sokaru formally," you want to try your hand at getting a bell, eh?"

The boy nodded slowly, his brown eyes fearful.

"Then come and get it!" challenge Sokaru, his voice like ground hamburger.

Moroku shook his head, too shy to go on the offensive, as he fiddled with his hands.

Sokaru sighed an thought,_" Great. He's too nervous to attack."_

"Suit yourself." Said Sokaru as he launched himself at the boy," I hope you fare better than sword-boy!"

Also, on a side note, does anyone recognize the description of the sword? Don't worry; your suspicions will be answered in time. But, to discourage all detectives and such, I will say this; Genji is in no way related to a certain "mist village demon". Understood? But this is the same sword and it is a foreshadow. You will see in time, I hope.

This chapter goes out to my biggest fan, Mansewerz. Keep up the good work buddy!

Thanks for playing along, Rasha


	10. Chapter 4, Part 2

**Chapter 4, Part 2**

**Moroku Versus Sokaru**

Sokaru leapt upwards to the arched root rising out of the ground, where Moroku was standing shyly. Wind rippling his face, Sokaru's discontented face gave away his thoughts,_" How does a mama's boy, not even bothering to fight, hope to get a bell?"_

Sokaru aim a right punch at the kid and was surprised that the boy let it connect with his right cheek. The instructor's respect lowered even farther as Moroku fell off of the back of the root and plummeted to earth.

However, to Sokaru's stunned persona, Moroku's body disappeared mid-fall in a poof of smoke. The old sensei landed crouched on the root, thinking to himself,_" Ah, a shadow doppelganger. In that case, I expect he will try to-"_

_Pssssssssssssssssssssthp!_

A shuriken barrage from his right sent the Sokaru leaping once again, this time landing on a higher root. From this vantage point he could see the real Moroku standing with his sash billowing in the wind on a separate root. The genin had a kunai held in his left hand and a pair of shuriken in the other. But his small face still was unchallenging, undetermined, and ashamed.

Sokaru couldn't help himself," Hey, mama's boy! Would you cut the crap and fight!"

Moroku gave a weak shake of the head.

In the back of the instructor's head he briefly recalled a section of text from the Training Guide,"_ The use of weapons is strongly discouraged. This is not target practice for you; it is the student's opportunity to test their steel against a jounin. This session should an entirely defensive battle on the instructor's part. We repeat-"_

"One couldn't hurt." Growled Sokaru under his breath and he hurled a kunai at Moroku.

The projectile whistled through the air. Sokaru watched as Moroku's sash rippled and grew, covering his body in silk. The kunai continued into the flurry of fabric. It passed over and around the cloth, not cutting. It passed unabated directly through Moroku's prone position within the whipping sash and continued on.

Sokaru cocked an eyebrow,_" Huh? How did that blade not cut the fabric, let alone hit him?"_

The blood red sash went limb from its frivolous action and fell down to reveal Moroku, standing and his eyes averted. He nervously itched his arms as he waited for Sokaru to say something,_" I hope he isn't mad."_

Moroku shook his head and thought in the far back of his head,_" Hell with that! Bring it on old man!"_

Moroku grinned and looked back up at Sokaru. But the sensei was no longer there, the larger root he had been standing on lye empty. Moroku started to panic, his enemy was close and he was in the open.

_"Time to move!"_

Sokaru watched from above as the sash again enveloped the young genin and dashed off with its owner hidden inside, bouncing from tree to tree. He observed as Moroku fled, somehow able to totally conceal himself within that magical scarf of his.

His calculations proved correct,_" He is focusing chakra into that garment, allowing him to move it to his whim. By doing that, it gives the item of clothing an illusion of life and intelligence."_

Moroku was moving quickly, trying to put as much distance between the unseen instructor and himself. From within his sash he thought he saw a black shadow move to his left. It vaguely reminded him of a certain lightning fast individual that had beaten the snot out of a certain stuck-up Kaguya not a day ago. Only one genin in the world could move that fast.

"_Rasha?"_

_SMACK!_

Moroku, not looking where he had been going, had run directly into Sokaru. Standing on a wide root with his one hand on his hip, the sensei looked down at the stunned boy. Moroku's wide eyes stared up into the cold green eyes of Sokaru as the sensei said casually," Going somewhere?"

_Chink!_

The sash had, Moroku thought, covered his left hand well enough to hide the kunai. He had drawn it as fast a possible and swept upwards at Sokaru's large torso only to clash with Sokaru's own kunai. They held their blades together, each trying to push the others' away.

Moroku ground his teeth as he exerted all his strength on his left hand, pushing with all his might at the kunai. But Sokaru's arm was steady and toned and easily shoved the boy away and off of the branch. The genin fell backwards over the high root and was immediately covered again by his sash.

Sokaru dived after him headfirst downwards, following the large tail of silk. On the way to the ground several shuriken flew from within the folds of cloth, embedding themselves in the bark close to the sensei. Whenever the instructor drew close enough the two would clash kunai in a bright spark of metal before parting and continuing down.

Finally the two landed back in the clearing. Moroku's crimson sash flowing around his body as Sokaru lazily itched his nose, waiting.

"You walk differently than you run." Noted Moroku, his breathing heavy.

"Brilliant Holmes." Mocked Sokaru, trying his hardest to get a rise out of the shy boy," Shall we finish this?"

Moroku slowly nodded and leapt at the jounin, a kunai held reverse in his dominant left hand. A front kick landed in the center of his chest and jolted him ten feet backwards before disappearing in a poof of smoke.

Sokaru spun and caught a right hook in his hand that had come from behind him. Moroku's stunned eyes met his own, as he smiled," Caught ya."

He knocked the wind from the boy with a driving knee to the gut. Moroku doubled over as Sokaru spun to his right. Using his body he threw the genin away like a used rag. The boy slammed viciously into an already dented tree root before crashing down to the ground. The still unconscious body of Genji, his giant sword lying beside the two, broke his fall.

Sokaru dusted off his button-less vest. He ambled over to a root and sat down as he brought out his stopwatch.

_"One hour left. The last one should be along any second."_

But his estimations proved wrong this time. Rasha, if that was his name, did not show his pale face. Ten whole minutes passed before Sokaru started to worry, as worse and worse ideas began to pass through his head. The longer he sat, the more concerned he became.

_"What if he was attacked by one of the giant wolves? They usually aren't out now, but it is possible. Or maybe he got caught in a hunting trap and lost a leg."_ He was getting nervous,_" If I let one of my students die on my first assignment, I'm through! They would exile me from a the village."_

_"Or worse, they might demote me back to a chuunin!" _

That last one did it.

Sokaru stood up and looked back down at the two unconscious genin," Don't go anywhere."

With that he dashed off into the forest to search for the third member of second squad. As he leapt into the blackness he did not notice the shadow that passed over the treetops. The bodies of Genji and Moroku had disappeared before the instructor had even faded out of sight. The clearing was left empty as the light breeze died. Giant leafs floated to earth as a pair of sharp eyes watched the sensei leave.

xxxxxxxxxx

And there we go. If anyone is wondering, I got the idea of Moroku's sash from a combination of Gaara, Vincent (from final fantasy advent children), and Spawn. Though it is not quite as powerful, it is indeed one of the most distinguishing features of the boy.

Plus, Moroku is kind of like two people. But not like Sakura! He is just shy around people, but I intend to bring out his more hardcore "go-get-them" attitude over time. It just appears in flashes, like today.

I hope you guys like where and how this is going. I promise not to make them gods.

Thanks for playing along, Rasha


	11. Chapter 4, Part 3

**Chapter #4, Part 3:**

**Rasha's Plan**

It took thirty minutes of searching before Sokaru found the boy. Rasha was sitting cross-legged on a stump in the center of a small, unmarked clearing. He had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply. His shoulder length, wispy thing black hair swayed in the breeze as the loose sleeves of his shirt gently caressed his wiry hands resting on his knees.

Sokaru scratched his head in confusion,_" Meditation? This is worse than the mama's boy! At least that punk put effort into fighting!"_

The old instructor shook his head as he dropped silently from a tree branch to earth,_" At least I can have some fun."_

Sokaru craftily snuck up behind the meditating boy from behind. He was biting his tongue; thinking of the boy's expression almost drove him to chuckle. His sandals noiselessly drew closer on their own accord, his mind occupied in moral victory.

His early and inner celebrations were cut short however by a curt," Yes, sensei?"

Sokaru stopped mid-step,_" How did he-"_

"I suppose you are wondering why I haven't bothered to make the slightest attempt to get a bell yet?" asked Rasha, his eyes still closed.

Sokaru was on his guard," It had crossed my mind."

"It is actually simple." Explained Rasha," I cannot get a bell."

The trainer cocked an eyebrow," How is that?"

Rasha breathed deeply again before continuing," I watched. Genji's forward assault failed miserably, as did Moroku's illusionist and distanced techniques. Even the combination of what I saw would be rendered useless against a jounin if attempted alone. There is a reason you guys are given dangerous missions and it has nothing to do with age."

Sokaru was impressed to say the least. This boy had either completely seen through the underlying test of teamwork, or was on the brink of it. He had been watching as his teammates failed, studying Sokaru and his victories.

The instructor wasn't sure which bothered him more; the fact that Rasha had not helped his squad when he was watching, or that he had evaded detection from the sensei.

"So," started Sokaru, trying to clear up the situation," do have a plan or not?"

Silence.

"Rasha?"

"Yes," said a voice from behind Sokaru," we do."

Sokaru whirled around to see the remainder second squad standing valiantly on different roots in the forest. Genji was hefting his broadsword in his right hand and grinning, his right cheek bleeding. Moroku was twirling a kunai in his left hand and wiping dirt from his face with is right. Both looked to be in much better shape than what Sokaru had left them in.

"I sent a shadow clone to collect them and nurse them back to health after you left." Said Rasha as he finally stood and faced the other genin," They agreed to help as long I promised to give them the bells."

_"So he figured it out."_ Thought Sokaru.

"We intend to hold you to your word Rasha!" shouted Genji, Moroku nodding in approval.

_"But you did not tell them what this test is truly about? I wonder why?"_

"Of course." Said Rasha, his eyes never leaving Sokaru.

It was at this time that Sokaru felt a very strange sensation grip him. It had been years since he'd faced down a worthy opponent. His last jounin adversary had left the sensei with a few new scars to add to his growing collection. That particular individual was one of the most merciless men on earth, a born killer. Sokaru was scared for the first time in his life, five years ago.

Now here, facing down three fresh-from-the-academy genins, he felt a trickle of the old dread crawling down his back. Having already beaten two of the three was easy enough, child's play literally, but this was a new game. He was outnumbered and surrounded by children who could see past his fake, crippled demeanor. No more pulled punches would be thrown at the one-arm-man, he was sure. These kids were serious.

_"Not good."_

Trying to draw a rise out of the kids, Sokaru taunted," Time is running out. You've all got less than ten minutes to get a bell. Better get going, eh?"

This drew no reaction from the strangely silent genin. Distrustful eyes met his own; the children had a grudge on their shoulders.

The giant maple leafs were falling again; lazily drifting to the forest floor. They curled around the instructor as he twisted so he could eye both of the groups. The leaves twisted up and under Genji's large arms and wrapped around Moroku's kunai. His red sash danced with the breeze, playfully batting the leaves away.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. To-_

"Go." Whispered Rasha.

Genji leapt from his root skyward as Moroku vanished in a twirl of fabric. The young swordsman came crashing to earth, chopping downwards on Sokaru's head. The instructor dodged the blow, rolling to his right. He came to his feet, kunai drawn, just in time to deflect a stab from Moroku. A pale arm was all that was visible from with the flowing cloth, kunai held against Sokaru's.

Sokaru pushed the kunai away and stabbed into the depths of the material, hoping to strike the owner within. His vision was engulfed in a cloud of smoke as his kunai, instead of connecting with soft flesh, dug deep into a small log. Moroku and his magic scarf was nowhere to be found.

_"Replacement jutsu."_ Noted Sokaru with interest.

He had moments to drop the log-laden kunai before ducking under a vicious sweeping slash from Genji's broadsword. Sokaru, much like before, was then left to dodge several fast and powerful attacks from the large boy's broadsword. Midway through a roll beneath a neck-cutting slice, a barrage of shuriken whizzed through the air at him from a crimson curtain to his right.

_"Tick. Tock. Tick._

The instructor leapt away again.

_Flicker._

It happened so fast Sokaru had not anticipated it. Out of nowhere Rasha, his slated eyes cold had miraculously appeared on the left side of the teacher. Sokaru barely had enough time to block an attempt on the bells. He deflected the snatch with his right forearm. His and Rasha's eyes locked mid-air for a fraction of a second before the boy in black vanished in a whirl of leaves.

_"Where did he come from?"_ thought a bewildered Sokaru.

The second he landed, he was again pushed backwards by Genji's ferocious attacks, interrupted momentarily by the occasional hailstorm of shuriken and kunai attacks by Moroku. Sokaru was never still, constantly dodging and leaping to avoid the unending onslaught.

Suddenly, after leaping once again away from Genji's sweeping neck-cutter, the instructor found himself surrounded by several Moroku clones, each wielding a kunai. They all disappeared into their sash shields before leaping at him simultaneously. Sokaru had to do so creative acrobatics to evade the multiple strikes, stabbing quickly with his own kunai. With his powerful right arm he was able to wound each clone, only to find himself standing alone in clouds of smoke; the real Moroku had not been part of the assault.

_"Tock. Tick. Tock._

Then, just as last time, Rasha shimmered into view to Sokaru's left out of the smoke. He once again only just managed to catch Rasha's punch aimed at his open midsection. What startled Sokaru about this attack, other than the immense speed used, was the extreme lack of force behind the punch. It was pathetic blow thrown at high velocity, a completely unexpected detail to Sokaru.

Rasha's eyes narrowed as he realized that the instructor had felt the absence of power in the attack. But nevertheless, he vanished just a quickly this time before the smoke could even clear. Sokaru had a peacefully millisecond to ponder the encounter before he noticed a giant blade cutting through the remainder of the smoke.

"Ghaaaaaaa!" came Genji's fierce battle cry within the mist.

The instructor kept up the routine for a few minutes; constantly dodging or parrying Genji's giant blade and avoiding Moroku's illusions and shuriken barrages. Momentarily, usually at the least opportune moment, Rasha would suddenly appear and make another weak attempt to wound Sokaru or snatch a bell.

_"Tick. Tock. Tick._

_"Shit."_ Thought Sokaru, the team had less than a minute and was giving it their all. He was starting to have to focus chakra to his feet in order to keep on balance with the steady attacks. Even focusing some to his eyes occasionally to watch for the extremely fast third member of second squad who made it a point to flicker in and out of view faster than what Sokaru could keep track of with his other opponents.

_Tick. Tock._

He was tiring. Eight Genji's, created by Moroku, lunged at Sokaru from behind, each slashing in a different direction all together. The instructor rolled beneath multiple clones and one-handed cart wheeled to his right to evade a whizzing kunai. A he landed heavily on his right foot, his grasp on the ground with his chakra slipped momentarily from the disorientation of the trick and his weariness.

_Tick._

_"Yes!"_ thought Rasha, a coy grin of his pale face as he materialized next to the unbalanced sensei. He was going to get them; dangling out in the air just waiting to be collected. His wiry hand drew within inches of the bells. Closer, to the point of-

_BRING!_

Rasha's gray eyes snapped open as he froze. Moroku stood beside Genji with kunai held between each finger, waiting to throw. Both of the boys were breathing heavily, Genji especially from wielding his mammoth blade was near collapsing. His sword arm lay limp at his side. Moroku's sash no longer waved about in silent giddiness either; it appeared to have realized what had just occurred as well.

Sokaru watched, stunned, as Rasha stared at his motionless hand in shock.

_"It was right there."_

It was very quiet all of the sudden; the brutal battle of mere seconds ago long forgotten already with the obvious failure. They had lost.

Sokaru stood up to his full height and eyed the genin with fallen faces. Solemnly he ordered," Follow me back to clearing twelve."

The thirty minutes of walking was done in absolute silence. Genji's once boyish face was smudged with dirt and crest fallen. Moroku's shyness had returned, his hands fiddled absentmindedly with his sash. Even Rasha, the most collected of the three, was staring at his toes as he walked.

They one-armed instructor led them to the large stone sticking out of the ground at the end of the clearing. Somehow he had enough energy to leap on top of the peak where he sat down, looking down onto the team. The children sat down in the grass, Genji falling onto his back in exhaustion, soon joined by Moroku and a broken Rasha. From that vantage point they were able to get a better view of the sensei anyway.

"Well." Said Sokaru, not really knowing where to start.

"Well." Repeated Genji, his beady eyes wandering to the canopy above.

"Well nothing." Said Rasha, staring directly ahead into the mass of leaves," We failed. I failed to get a bell for you two."

"Don't beat yourself up over it, man." Compassionately said Genji, agreed with by a nod from Moroku," You came closer than either Moroku and I could have."

Rasha remained silent, brooding over his failure.

Sokaru decided that these little punks, though immature, stupid, and uncoordinated, deserved the truth if nothing else. Maybe if he got around to it, respect even.

"Guys?" said Sokaru, drawing the attention of all but Rasha," I want to tell you something."

Silence.

" Truth is, I've never taught before. This was my first day as an instructor." Continued Sokaru, getting wide eyed looks from Genji and Moroku," I also haven't been in active combat for close to five years."

"I want you boys to know something. You might have failed to get any bells, but according to my rulebook, you pass."

"What?" asked a weak Genji as Rasha shook himself from his daze in shock.

"Rasha, you knew what this test was truly about, didn't you? I don't see why you didn't bother to tell Genji or Moroku, but why don't you now." Coaxed the instructor, scratching his scarred chin.

Rasha recited blandly," There were only two bells, but we were broken into teams of three. It was redundant to split teams into three for a test made for two. I figured it out while watching Genji fight that alone none of us could match the skill of a jounin, but combined we stood a much better chance at getting the bells.

As for not telling Moroku or Genji when I revived them, there was no need to. It would have only complicated things more. It was much easier to convince them that I would give them the bells if they would draw your attention long enough for me to get close. Either way would have worked, but it was less tedious to lie."

"Sorry." Said Rasha, motioning to his teammates.

"Given a second more, I'm pretty sure you would have succeeded Rasha." Commended Sokaru, then turning to Genji and Moroku," You both deserve so credit too. Genji, your improvising skills in battle cost me all of the buttons on my vest. And Moroku was able to catch me off guard with his shadow clones and substitution jutsus."

His students looked at him with bug eyes as Sokaru took a moment to pat the rock he sat upon," So you three know what so many names are carved into this rock?"

"Nope-No-Uh, un"

"This clearing is the sight of the legendary "Battle of Bersangu". It is the place where the demon Haraka took over the honorable Bersangu's body and forced him to kill all present at the battle, spare a few stragglers. All these names are of the great shinobi who gave their life in vain to stop Bersangu from reaching their village, Mist or Shadow. For the first time since the "Separation" Mist and Shadow shinobi fought side-by-side in a desperate effort to spare more lives.

Those that died, regardless of village, had their names carved into this rock and given a hero's funeral. They died fighting their ablsolute best; "with their boots on" as the saying goes. You three gave it your best today and nearly succeeded. You are as worthy as these shinobi of long ago. You did your best, and that is what matters today. I am proud to be your jounin instructor."

Second squad looked back and forth between eachother, stunned. It was Genji that broke the silence with a loud," Yeaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

Moroku smiled bashfully and fiddled with his sash. Rasha on the other hand flopped back down on the cool grass grinning," So, what now?"

Sokaru paused. He hadn't thought past this test.

"Uh, what would you guys have me do?" he asked, scratching his head.

The team looked back and forth amongst themselves before Rasha asked," You saying you will train us however we want?"

"More or less." Grumbled Sokaru.

Rasha looked at the astonished faces of his teammates before he requested," Five minutes?"

"Take your time." Said Sokaru, hopping down from the uncomfortable monument to lie in the now unoccupied, soft grass.

Second squad huddled together fifteen feet away discussing the terms of their training in whispers.

"This is cool. We'll get to relax twice as much as other teams." Whispered Genji, his big grin cocked from ear to ear.

Rasha turned to Moroku," What do you think?"

Staring at the ground Moroku mumbled something about "not caring" and it being "their decision". At this Genji turned to Rasha and asked," What is your idea?"

Rasha scratched his chin thinking to himself for a minute before responding," I think we should make the best of this opportunity. By having a jounin willing to teach us want we want, we could use the circumstances to play the situation in our favor. By that I mean we could use the opportunity to better ourselves immensely."

"How?" quietly asked Moroku.

"By doing twice the work; three to four D rank missions a day if we can get them." Said Rasha confidently.

"Whoa! How up a second-" started Genji, seeing the conversation take a U-turn.

But Rasha was on a role," We could have him do regular training exercises with us to work on teamwork and different situations we might face in the real world! Also, when we are at home and in the morning before exercise he could give us training workouts to play against our weakness. By stressing in areas we lack, our effectiveness as a team and our odds of getting better missions increases dramatically!"

Moroku was nodding in agreement, but Genji had a look of horrification on his big mug," But that will be hard!"

"The right thing to do is never easy." Wisely said Rasha, " Don't you want to get stronger?"

That did it for Genji. Being stronger was right up his alley, even if it meant getting up early for training," Fine."

Sokaru was bordering on the edge of unconsciousness when they returned; the sensei had really worn himself down during the test and was resting peacefully in the grass. But a deep green eye cracked open as the old man squinted at the trio," And the final verdict is?"

"We do three to four D rank missions a day, if possible." Started Genji, knowing he would regret this.

"While you put us through different training exercises it help build our teamwork skills," added Moroku, a hint of assurance in his voice.

"On top of that you specifically train us to overcome our major weakness. Working exclusively on bettering what skills we have in our own time while pounding out the kinks in our faults with you." Finished Rasha, his arms crossed.

_"As I expected. They couldn't make this easy."_ Thought Sokaru.

"Alright," he said, standing up and facing his squad," your training begins two days from now. I need time to plan workout regimens for each of you, let alone book enough D rank missions."

"Dismissed!" saluted Sokaru to his grinning team," Your done for today team two!"

Moroku had already vanished, darting into the treetops as Genji turned and looked over his shoulder before leaping away," Oh, and its team Shadow-Wing! Right, Rasha?"

Rasha grinned as the big genin disappeared from sight.

"Rasha?" asked Sokaru.

Rasha turned around to listen.

"I noticed that your punches-"

"Lack a little force, right?" interrupted Rasha, embarrassed.

Sokaru scratched his head," Well, yeah. Why is that?"

"I have always thrown "powder puffs" admitted Rasha," Unless I put my whole weight into a blow it has no power behind it. I guess it is my curse for being so fast; a trade of power for speed."

Sokaru looked at the boy with a mixture of admiration and pity. He was brave to admit such a flaw in his technique.

_"Hold the phone."_ Thought Sokaru, his memory kicking in.

"Rasha," he asked urgently," how would you like to gain the power you want and be even faster?"

Rasha's jaw slacked," Faster?"

"Faster."

"And more powerful?"

"That too." Confirmed Sokaru, a sly grin snaking its way up his face.

"How?" whispered a bewildered Rasha.

"Follow me." Ordered Sokaru before darting off into the forest.

Rasha had to shake himself out of his daze in order to move. He quickly caught up to the jounin, rebounding from root to root. To celebrate he even latched onto a vine to swing like a character he'd read about in comic books for w few seconds before back flipping twice and continuing his pursuit.

The instructor led Rasha to an apartment terrace in the middle of Yorizaru. Sokaru left Rasha outside under a orange overhead light while he went inside," I'll be right back."

Rasha passed the few minutes watching the large moths of the village flutter by on the breeze and enjoy the third story view. He could even see his apartment from here, far spec of light in the distance. Building rose out of the shadow like dark, mammoth gravestones, separated by miniscule dots of orange at their bases. People sometimes could be seen passing under a streetlight on their way home from a hard day's work; moving entirely in shadow for the majority of the journey as accustomed.

"Found them. And I thought that these were a waste of money!" Said Sokaru, returned from his absence," These should do the trick."

He held out some equipment to Rasha, all black," These are weights. You put the ten pound ones on your ankles and the five pounds on your wrists. The twenty-pound belt isn't really necessary, but in order for you to work better with your team you will need to slow up. This should give Genji and Moroku a chance to keep up with you."

Rasha looked down at the mass of equipment in his arms, overwhelmed with gratitude, before looking back at Sokaru to ask," When I get used to these, I take them off?"

"Nope." Grinned Sokaru," You wanted to do things the hard way, remember? When you get used to that pair, I have six more sets that get severely heavier as you go. I doubt you'll ever get to the seventh level; it jumps to two hundred pounds for each weight; belt, wrist and ankles!"

"Whoa." Murmured Rasha, hefting the weights in his hands with mental comparison.

"Also, the only time you are allowed to take these off are in times of great distress or bathing." Said Sokaru," Or both."

_"A joke?"_ thought Sokaru, surprised with himself," And even when in life-threatening situations, if I am present, you must ask for permission to remove them. Understood?"

"Yes, sensei." Said Rasha, still overcome with appreciation," Thank you!"

As the genin turned to leave, Sokaru briefly recalled his last name and had a flashback to reading a paper a few years back," Rasha?"

The boy turned around, only his sharp gray eyes visible from the darkness," Yes, sensei?"

"Care to tell me if you're the son of one Yoshin Yeroku?" asked the sensei cautiously.

A visible coldness took over the eyes of Rasha, his pupils contracting in rage. The voice that came from the shadows was icy and bitter," Care to tell me how you lost that arm?"

Now it was Sokaru's turn to get cold. But the genin bounded off into the night-day without a backwards glance. The sensei was left alone and hurt, thinking to himself," So he lives alone. I knew he reminded me of someone."

_"I would be ashamed and touchy too,"_ thought Sokaru as he slid open his patio door to go inside for a good nights sleep,_" I would be too if my father was a Hidden Mist Assassin."_

Ask and you shall receive! Well, most of the time. I could make this a Naruto-Hinata fanfiction…………………………………or not.

But seriously, this is the longest chapter yet. If you like how I did it, don't hesitate to speak up. But if you want to complain, do that too!

I hope you guys like the plot twists I'm putting in here. If you follow it, if I ever get there, you will think of it being rather witty I play the plot off.

(This goes out to the new fans, four more than I expected! This is for you Stiches-OFire, IREVUNAO, AnimeCrusader, and Stiches! Lots of love guys. You are people are what keep me writing!)

Thanks for playing along, Rasha

PS: My hands hurt and I hope you're happy. Hahaha.


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